


Reflecting the Streets in your Blue Eyes

by musiclily88



Series: Wasted Youth// There Wasn't Much to Waste [23]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Abuse, Angst, Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Anxiety Disorder, Child Abuse, Depression, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, F/F, M/M, Mean, Mean to the Bone, Past Abuse, Physical Abuse, Recreational Drug Use, Verbal Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-15
Updated: 2014-02-15
Packaged: 2018-01-12 11:02:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1185471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/musiclily88/pseuds/musiclily88
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis bribed four nurses to let him stay despite the end of visiting hours. He watched silently as Liam was administered medications and had his blood pressure taken. He grew bored and weary very quickly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reflecting the Streets in your Blue Eyes

**Author's Note:**

> WE ARE NOT GOING TO TALK ABOUT HOW IMMEDIATELY PERSONAL THIS SECTION IS TO ME.
> 
> (Folks, hey this section is literally and absolutely my life, and I don’t want to discuss it ever and ever, amen ha)
> 
> Carry on.
> 
> xx

Louis bribed four nurses to let him stay despite the end of visiting hours. He watched silently as Liam was administered medications and had his blood pressure taken. He grew bored and weary very quickly.

The hospital magazines were both dull and strangely water-logged and Louis’ mobile got shitty reception. Liam’s medications made him tired and therefore not very entertaining company. Louis put the telly on low volume and watched two hours of procedural crime dramas, predicting the endings after fifteen minutes apiece.

He paced the room and the corridors, read the advocacy information left for Liam by Thea, and finally collapsed in a chair, feeling messy and exhausted.

***  
Louis awoke in the early morning, neck stiff and back aching. Liam was sleeping soundly, mouth open. Zayn stood in the doorway having a quiet conversation with a woman Louis assumed to be Liam’s mother. He couldn’t hear their words, only noted the sad intensity of their faces, the rigid way Zayn was standing.

He shifted in his seat and considered joining the conversation but instead he shifted positions again and tried to fall back asleep.

It took an hour for him to drift into a light doze, and when he woke up, a nurse was taking Liam’s blood pressure. “You’re just about good to go, then, love. We just have a few more forms for you and your mother to look over before we release you, all right?”

Liam nodded, letting her administer to him quietly. She walked away shortly after finishing his tests.

Louis stretched out the kinks in his shoulders. “Morning,” he said with a yawn. “How’s tricks, kid?”

“Been better, been worse.”

“How awkward would it be to have morning wood only to be woken up by a nurse who needs to take your blood pressure?” Louis mused, brows knitting together slightly.

Liam snorted. “Always the comedian.”

“Laughter, medicine, et cetera, et cetera.” _Not the time to mention he had accidentally referred to himself as Liam’s boyfriend in front of Ruth. Not the time at all._ “So you’re getting out soon.”

“That’s what they tell me.”

“You gonna talk to that lady, then? Get a therapist and see what they have to say?”

Liam shrugged, rustling the fabric of his hospital gown. “Not sure.”

“Could be helpful. Lottie really likes it, I guess. And I’m no worse for wear, at any rate.”

“Yeah?”

“She’s helping me sort my shit. I’ve got a lot of it to sift through, I reckon.”

Liam snorted. “It wouldn’t be about sorting my shit, though, would it? It would just be someone telling me over and over again _it’s not your fault, it’s not your fault,_ right?”

“But it’s not your fault.”

“Yes, thank you.” Liam rolled his eyes. “Not the point I was trying to make.”

“Okay. But they’re—trained and shit, and they’re smart and they know what they’re doing. They’re not some exhausted acquaintance of yours who happened to sleep in an uncomfortable hospital chair overnight and who can’t think straight right now to come up with something comforting.”

“Acquaintance?” Liam shot him a confused glance, biting his lip.

“Whatever. You know what I mean.”

“Look, if this is too much for you, you can leave. I told you that. I shouldn’t have shown up on your fucking stoop and expected you to just drop everything, all right? I’m not trying to reel you back in or make you feel obligated.” He scrubbed a large hand over his face, looking ever-weary.

“There isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for you, you know,” Louis said with a sigh. He pulled his legs up so they were bent at the knee in front of his chest, all of his body settling into the chair. “Including staying away from you, if that’s what you need. You know? I need you to be happy more than anything else. And I’m so fucked, right, I can’t even figure out how to make myself be happy, let alone how to, like, contribute meaningfully to the world.”

“You made me feel better.”

“The fuck? I literally did nothing. I got you an ice pack, mate. Like, everyone else knew what to do, right? Like. Harry’s all cuddly and Zayn’s threatening and Niall bought you cosy shit, and I’m just posting up in the corner like a twat. Fuck, even now I’m just unloading on you rather than asking how you’re feeling or, like, ignoring my own shit for seven fucking sentences.” He inhaled, pursing his lips. “I’m a fucking mess.”

“You are aware that I’m in love with you, right?”

Louis growled, dropping his head down onto his knees. He took two sustaining breaths. “I—don’t really know what love means, Liam. That’s my problem. And I’m terrified of you and for you and I just don’t know what the fuck is happening at any point of my day. Love is—love has always been made conditional, for me, and I’m going to continue to fuck everything up, because that’s all I know how to do.”

“Okay.”

“Which, like, isn’t really a response and really isn’t a fair thing to say to anyone, especially not to you. And you’re so good, like, you’re great and going places, and I’m just—here. In the corner. Pretending to be big and bright and shiny.”

“I’m not so good, when it comes down to it. Couldn’t even manage to beat someone to death with a big piece of metal.”

“Fuck.” Louis exhaled sharply. “I don’t even—how can you say that?”

“There’s nothing I want more in the entire world than for him to be dead.”

“And you want to be the one to kill him? Christ, Liam.”

“Who better than me? I’m the one who wants it most.”

“Don’t do that to yourself.”

Liam’s lips twisted sharply. “Giving life advice now, Lou?” For the first time since Louis had met him, he looked cruel.

“Yeah, I am. Don’t do that to yourself. It’s already making you bitter and mean. You’re better than that.”

“I’m really not.”

“If you give in to that, it’ll consume you, you know. You won’t have anything else.”

“Well, maybe I won’t need anything else.”

“You’re better than that.”

“You said that already.” Liam smirked. “Think someone’s forgotten his next line, eh?”

“Christ, Liam.”

“I’m allowed to be bitter, you know. I think I’m entitled to that. Without a lecture from you about, like, wallowing or something. Which, hypocritical. Ugh, whatever, never mind. I don’t want to have this conversation.”

_I’m such a shit influence on everyone. Christ._ “Fine.” Louis shoved one hand into his pocket and fished out a pill, swallowing it dry. “Whatever you want, babe.”

Liam sighed and tipped his head back against the pillow. “I’m just so tired.”

“I’d really prefer you didn’t also go to prison for killing someone, even if the bastard deserves it. Okay? I can’t help you if you’re in prison unless I get arrested too, and that seems like a bit of a shit plan. So for now we’re gonna have to trust the justice system not to be totally corrupt.”

“Fat chance of that.”

“Well. Okay. And then we’ll work out a way to get you the fuck outta Dodge, yeah? Away from—where this could happen again. You could go to uni or something. A far-away uni.”

“Not really smart enough for that, Lou, hate to break it to you.”

“You work hard enough to make up for whatever skills you assume you lack, dick. Just, keep your head down and work on getting out of here.”

“Where, this specific hospital? Or out of the biggest city in all of England? Because people normally escape _to_ a city, not away from one.”

“So go to Edinburgh or something, I don’t know. It’s just an idea.”

“Running the fuck away. Sounds inspired.”

“It’s—you have so many opportunities, is all. I mean, as long as you don’t _fixate_ on revenge.”

“I’m not really the one of us who’s fixated, here, usually. Really.”

“Yeah, fine,” Louis huffed, annoyed. “I’m single-minded to the point of ruin. And let’s not let that happen to you. You don’t need his blood on your conscience.”

“I don’t want to have this conversation.”

***

Louis cringed his way through his introduction to Liam’s mother. She was fidgety, wan, and exhausted-looking, the circles under her eyes nearly as dark as Liam’s bruises. She shuffled her feet when Liam ducked into the toilet to change into street clothes, looking warily between Louis and Zayn.

“You rode along in the ambulance, right?” Zayn murmured to Louis, who nodded. “I can give you a ride home or somethin.”

“Thanks.”

Liam re-entered the room and threw his bundled-up gown onto the bed.

“I got your prescriptions filled downstairs,” Mrs. Payne said quietly, gesturing to her handbag.

“Okay. Do we have to sign any more forms?” Liam asked, collecting the few items he’d acquired during his stay.

“We’re all set. Do you need help with your belongings, sweetheart?”

“No.” His gaze was cold, locked down as he picked everything up. Louis, Zayn, and Liam’s mum followed him quietly as he walked out of the room. “Where’d you park? I don’t know where I’m going,” he called over his shoulder, prompting her to speed up and lead them to the proper exit.

They stopped short at a rust-red sedan that beeped when Mrs. Payne pushed the remote. Liam dumped his possessions unceremoniously in the back seat, and then he turned, only to immediately pull Zayn into a lingering hug. Zayn huffed out a breath and hugged back, eyes shut tightly. Louis clenched his jaw shut.

They separated slowly, and Liam yanked Louis into a soft, tentative hug. Louis pressed his lips to Liam’s warm neck, kissing his skin chastely. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” Louis promised. “I’ll drive over early.” He backed away gingerly.

“Barely trust your driving skills, mate,” Liam responded with a small smile.

“Even after all this time?”

“Habits don’t really die, do they?”

“Suppose not.”

 

Louis and Zayn left shortly after Liam and his mother drove away, neither speaking until they pulled up to Louis’ house. Zayn parked and dropped his forehead onto the steering wheel, arms limp at his sides. Louis grabbed Zayn’s wrist and flipped it over, tracing the pocked cigarette scars lightly, tickling against the thin skin over his veins.

Louis’ back hurt and he felt wrung-out even as he noticed his eyes fill with tears.

“He’s going to be okay. They said so,” he whispered.

“Yeah, yeah. I need you to do something for me, okay?”

“What?”

“Open the glovebox.”

Clicking it open, Louis immediately spotted a good-sized handgun tucked behind a pair of leather driving gloves. 

“Shit.”

“Don’t say anything. Just—take it away from me. Otherwise I definitely _will_ kill him.”

“What do you want me to do with it? Keep it or get rid of it?”

“Keep it, I guess. Might need it eventually.”

Louis cradled it carefully. “Your dad get ahold of it for you? Pretty criminal of you, kid.”

“I don’t care of it’s illegal. I’m a Pakistani lad who occasionally likes to suck cock. Reckon I kinda need it.”

“Have you ever needed it before?”

“Plausible deniability.” Zayn quirked up his lips.

“Fuckwit. You just handed a gun to a suicide risk.”

“It’s not loaded!” he insisted.

“I’m endlessly comforted.” Louis sighed, settling back against the leather seat. “How do you know I won’t go out and kill him?”

“You don’t know where he is.”

“I could track him down.”

“Don’t.”

“What, you think he deserves a fair trial?” Louis scoffed.

“Liam wouldn’t want you to do it.”

“Fine.” He set the gun in his lap and stretched, still feeling achey and strange. “Hey, I want another tattoo, yeah. Yours have covered your scars pretty well.”

“You don’t have scars.”

“I’m making conversation.”

“You have a gun in your lap and you want to talk about tattoos?”

“Is that a gun in your lap or are you just happy to—”

“Shut up.”

“Fine. Do you want to come in?”

“I’m _really_ not going to fuck you right now.”

“Funny, that’s now what I asked.”

“Just saying.”

“For Christ’s sake, we can just get stoned and walk a film, not everything has to be so _dramatic.”_ Louis sneered at Zayn, acting on pure instinct, until he saw the serious look on the latter’s face.

“I kinda want to just—hurt something.”

“Not volunteering for that.”

“Funny, I wasn’t asking you to,” Zayn echoed, rolling his eyes.

Liam grappled out sideways and his hand connected with Zayn’s wrist, pressing down hard on the ropey veins at the bottom of his hand. “Fine. Fine. Well I’m gonna go visit him tomorrow, okay.”

“Yeah.” Zayn grinned once, sharp and awful. “Are you in love with him?”

Louis pulled his hand away quickly. “I’m not having this conversation with you. Not right now.”

“Not right now?” he growled in response, voice murderous.

“Not when you want to destroy something. I’m not going to play this game right now, this fucked-up sadistic mutual masturbation session, all right? I’m not interested in hating you right now.”

“Huh. Someone found his high horse.”

“I’m kind of sick of being your newest method of self-harm, Z, all right? Christ.”

“Fuck off with the intro-level psychobabble, yeah? Just get out of the car,” he said, lashing out quickly so that his elbow connected with Louis’ shoulder.

“Fine, whatever,” Louis replied with a wince. He opened the door and got out. Zayn peeled away almost before Louis had even shut the door again. Belatedly, he shoved the gun into his pocket, a flush of guilt wading over him.

Louis stormed inside and into his room. He shoved the gun into an old football boot and stuck it in a kit bag near the back of his closet. It was a shit hiding place and he knew it, but he had no idea what he was doing, nearly ever.

Afterwards, he ran a bath and smoked a spliff, letting the smoke dissipate into the steam from the water. He began crying as the water grew tepid. Vulnerable and raw, he inhaled raggedly around the spliff and let it burn his throat.

***  
“Tattoos are permanent,” Niall said, rolling his eyes even as he grinned, trailing along behind Louis.

“Are you lecturing me?”

“Nope. Just stating a fact.”

“You don’t have to come, if you don’t want to.”

“Nah, looking forward to watching you try not to cry. It’ll be the craic.”

“I have no idea what those words mean, you paddy bastard.”

“Very few people do know. Hey, can we get food after? How long will this take? I’m gagging for a curry, yeah?”

Louis snorted. “Fuck, I need better friends.”

“Think I should get, like, a clover on my arse cheek? Or would that be too squidgy?”

“Your body is a temple, Ni. Do you really want it covered in clovers?”

“My body is a temple full of chicken and chips. Is clover really going to make it that much worse?”

“Dunno. Guess that’s between you and your god.”

“Hm. Maybe I’ll just watch for now.”

“Whatever you say, voyeur.”

“No, uh-uh. Not all of us are sexual deviants like you.”

“In ancient Greece, I would have been revered.”

Niall rolled his eyes. “In ancient Greece, you’d probably have died in battle before you even had a decent lay, bro. Plus even back then, sex was pretty misogynistic and heteronormative, right, like the one getting penetrated was considered the woman, and therefore weak?”

“Christ, I feel like I’m hanging out with Harry.”

“Why, because I respect women?”

“No, because you’re telling a tedious story that somehow makes an exciting topic really dry.”

“Shit, bro, if your sex is dry, you’re probably doing it wrong. Hate to break it to you.”

“Not physically—oh my god, never mind,” Louis said, exasperated. He stopped short in front of a shop with a large neon sign in its front window. “This is the place.”

“Looks—clean.”

“Yeah. Not remotely infested with anything questionable.”

“It’s your body. Do whatever you want with it.”

“I intend to,” Louis responded, shouldering his way into the shop.

He reveled in the buzz of the tattoo gun against his thigh, watched the needle pulsate against his skin. The vibrations worked their way up his leg and settled in his gut. The scratching, pin-prick pain interwove with a deep euphoria. His pain tolerance, which was high even on a bad day, sang with this kind of sensation.

“Shit, bro, I feel like I’m watching you have sex or something,” Niall muttered, spinning on his heel to walk away from Louis, seated in the artist’s chair.

“Excuse me?” Louis snapped, eyes fluttering open.

“It’s like really intimate, isn’t it?”

“No it’s—it’s a weird sensation. Kinda releases endorphins or sommat. Tickly, too.”

“Uh-huh. Whatever you say.” Niall shrugged. “I’ll be over there.” He pointed to the front of the shop, which displayed flash art and the artists’ portfolios. “So you can come in privacy,” he added with a shudder.

“I heard that!”

“You were meant to!”

So Louis settled deeper into the sensations flooding his entire body, the consistent prick of the needle and the drag of the paper towel when ink needed washing away. He watched the jackhammer movement of the tattoo gun, bit down on a smile as dark lines appeared on his thigh.

It took nearly an hour for the artist to complete, and Louis snapped a photo of it before he taped it up in a bandage. He half-listened as the artist explained how and when to clean it, not pointing out the tattoos that already littered his arms. He paid and tipped generously.

“Let’s see it,” Niall requested before peering at the photo with a quiet hum. “Bloody big feather then, is it?”

“Keen eye on you,” Louis agreed, shuffling them both out of the shop.

“Rather fond of birds, are we?”

“Precisely.”

“Huh. You know, I think I know someone who has a similar tattoo on his arm, actually. It’s Li—”

“How very fascinating, Niall, please do tell me over pints rather than in the middle of the pavement.”

“As long as we can get pints at the same time as curry. Or anything really. Doesn’t do to drink on an empty stomach.” Niall yanked open the door of Louis’ car and settled into the passenger seat. “Though I really do fancy a curry. Hm. How’s Liam?”

“Didn’t you see him just two days ago?” Louis muttered, buckling into the belt.

“Yeah. But you saw him this morning.”

“I did.”

“Now, I’m not saying the lads and I’ve set up a rotation or anything, but…” Niall trailed off.

Louis chuckled. “So, like, a homicide watch or something?”

“Keep him from losing his shit?”

“If that’s the technical term we’re going with.” He began backing out of the carpark, cautious of his surrounding mostly because he had a passenger in the car.

“You tell me, you saw him this morning.”

“He looked like shit. And he hadn’t spoken to his mum in more than, what, twelve hours.”

“Hm. Good to know. I’m heading there later this evening,” Niall added, shrugging beneath his thin t-shirt.

“What? You’re not going to ask me about my love life in the wake of this terrible disaster? Seems like you’re the only one.”

Niall chuckled easily. “Doesn’t seem it’s any of my business. If you want to bring it up, you probably will.”

“You were singing a different tune not too long ago, ringing me at all hours of the night telling me I needed to get back with him.”

“Sorry bout that. He asked me to,” Niall said with a soft shrug.

“And now?”

“Seems like it’s not gonna help if I interfere in that. Just gotta keep an eye on everyone like friends are supposed to do.”

Louis shoved a hand sideways to ruffle Niall’s hair. “Oh you.”

“Enough heart-to-heart. I need a curry.” Niall lowered the window and shoved his elbow out. He hummed along to the radio as they drove along, periodically giving Louis searching looks.

“Oh my god, you still want us to get back together, don’t you?” Louis crowed, throwing both his hands into the air. The car swerved gently before Louis corrected its trajectory, spying Niall shoot him a guilty glance.

_“I never said that.”_

“You know, like—it doesn’t always work. Like, being in a relationship doesn’t make everything suddenly better.”

“It doesn’t fucking hurt, eh?”

“Sometimes it does, Ni.”

“Well. Like I said, I’m staying out of it.” Niall pulled his legs up and placed his feet on the dash. “Think Liam would like a curry?”

 

So Louis drove Niall to pick up takeaway and a six-pack before dropping him off at Liam’s house. He swallowed down the roaring wave of jealously inside his throat. “You coming in?” Niall asked, easily hefting the bag of food.

“Nah. Friend time for you two yeah?” Louis rested both hands lightly on the wheel. “You need a ride later?”

“Thanks, but no. My girlfriend’s meeting up with me in a bit, once Liam’s sick of me.”

“Girlfriend?” Louis’s face scrunched into a picture of confusion. 

“Lou,” Niall said in low tones, amusement bright in his crinkling eyes.

“Wow,” he breathed. “I’m a really shit friend, aren’t I?”

“You have your moments.” Niall shrugged. “You’ll come visit him in the morning, then?”

“Yeah. Definitely.”

“Then you’re all square with me!” he called over his shoulder with a booming laugh.

Louis spent his drive home fixated on how little he deserved the people in his life, both good and ill. Really, he figured, he deserved to sit in a boring little room all alone, atoning endlessly for his sins and betrayals—and maybe seeking revenge on the truly evil.

He thought me had perhaps missed his calling as an angel of vengeance (or a demon of vengeance, whichever uniform would better suit his sizeable arse), and he was understandably distracted as he pulled up to his house, thinking of religion and history and comeuppance.

Lottie intercepted him on the way up the stairs, tugging gently at his sleeve. 

“Dad says check your text messages, but if I were you, I’d stay the fuck away from all that until tomorrow or after. He’s been on a drunken warpath since midday.”

“Are you—how is—”

“No, he hasn’t done anything but, like, yell about how everyone he knows is an ungrateful son of a whore, that no one understands how hard he works, that his entire life is full of trash not worthy for the bottom of his shoe. Up, up, come on,” she pleaded, dragging him up to her room as she shushed him.

“Where are—”

“Mum took the girls to swim practice ages ago, and I called her to say she should probably stay at the Georgia Rose tonight, since it’s right there and the twins really don’t need to see this spectacle. I don’t think he’d actually, like, hit us or anything, but it’s—we’re just not going near that idea.”

“Fuck, Lots. This is so not what I needed right now.”

Lottie set her jaw harshly. “Really? You think I wanted this right now?”

He shook his head slowly. “Hey, no, not at all, but. I just spent two days in hospital with Liam after his father nearly beat him to death. I don’t need any kind of bullshit, let alone father bullshit, all right?”

“Oh,” she breathed. “Okay. But seriously, hush. He’s been weird and unpredictable, yeah?”

“And he wants me to read my fucking text messages, of all things?” Louis asked, scrambling for the pocket of his jeans for his mobile.

 

_goddamn typical_ is the first thing he reads, opening the most recent text from his stepfather.

Retreating backward to the previous messages, he pursed his lips.

_enjoy the gift_ Louis received, four days ago, in the middle of his school woes and his worries about Liam.

 

Then _not good to ignore my messages, son, it hardens my opinion_

_look at the texts I’ve sent and lose your attitude, Louis._

 

A day later came:

_no answer? Typical. Enjoy your life. Done trying to help. You will be on your own soon and you can then figure it out on your own._

 

Hours later:

_Think about your interactions with your family, think about you anger. You hurt me and your mother, always. You display no appreciation for what you have been given. You show anger at the slightest input. You are not a child anymore, and I expect better. You are capable of better._

Two hours ago:

_forget it, you’re clearly not sensitive to the feelings of your family, you’re clearly ignoring their opinions_

 

An hour ago:

_If you’re not open to change, fine. If you’ve stopped evolving, forget everything I’ve said. If you haven’t, well, treat your parents with real appreciation and reverence. We make a daily sacrifice for you because we care about you. Now act like it matters to you, son. Good night._

“Fuck.”

**Author's Note:**

> UGH
> 
>  
> 
> Comments, criticism, annoyances, frustrations, thoughts, ideas, etc--I welcome them all
> 
>  
> 
> tumblr: musiclily


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